


Stifle

by verucasalt123



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Comeplay, M/M, Oral Sex, Sibling Incest, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 15:32:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6571726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verucasalt123/pseuds/verucasalt123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean thought there was supposed to be some kind of learning curve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stifle

**Author's Note:**

> Written for salt_burn_porn. This is my first attempt after a very long Wincest hiatus.

It was the weather. 

Days like this, Dean couldn’t help the memories that consumed him. They started as a trickle, like the perspiration from his brow that had begun minutes after he started changing the goddamn tire on the side of this deserted two-lane state road. By the time he was done, his shirt was soaked through, flooded with sweat like his mind and body were flooded by words and images from long ago, sense memory of how it felt that Saturday afternoon in Chattanooga. 

Sammy had just turned fourteen. Dad had packed them up for a trip to the deep south the day school was out. The kid hadn’t shown any appreciation for the fact that they’d stayed in Wyoming an extra week so he could finish the school year. Over the past few months, Sam had gained and lost many things from Dean’s observation.

Losses: willingness to share any emotion other than a surly dissatisfaction with his life, that way he used to smile so you could see his dimples, the last bit of _little boy_ look about him, and any respect at all he’d still had for John. 

Gains: a shitty attitude, the angriest stare Dean had ever seen on a kid that age, four inches of height, and a full stop in the matter of trying to hide his feelings for his older brother. 

Dad had left them almost as soon as they’d signed the papers to rent that single-wide with the temperamental window unit air conditioner. It was a given that John would go alone and Dean would stay with Sam. Their dad would look for longer hunts during school breaks, and leaving Sammy alone for weeks at a time was not an option. They’d stopped having the argument by then - John insisting Dean had been fine on his own at that age, Dean holding on to the only thing that could make him stand up to his dad; Sam wasn’t Dean and John shouldn’t expect him to be. 

(Sam was never involved in those arguments anyway)

That particular year, Dean had other motivations for wanting to stay behind. This _thing_ he and his little brother had...a push-pull, now you see it/now you don’t, bizarre and shameful and unavoidable attraction to each other...Sam was clearly through with pretending it wasn’t there. Dean might have tried to keep it at bay just a little bit longer if it weren’t for the weather. 

The heat was oppressive. Air so heavy sometimes it felt like you could reach out and grab a handful of it. 

_Stifling_. Dean only knew the term because their dad yelled it at the two boys for as long as they could remember. Some word from an old 1970s television show John used to watch during the part of his life when he did normal shit like watch television; a phrase he used when he was feeling kind enough not to just tell them to shut the fuck up.

The whole situation was stifling that summer. The place they lived was so tiny that there was almost no way to avoid physical contact, even casually. Dad had been gone four whole days when Sam cornered Dean in the kitchen. The window AC was having an off-day and they were both rank; sweaty and gross and dirty and reeking of teenage boy body odor. 

That summer day’s oppressive heat had drained Dean of any energy he may have had to fend off that advance. Hell, it had even taken away his ability to be surprised when Sammy leaned in for a kiss that was almost vicious in its intensity. 

Far as Dean knew, Sammy’s experience with kissing was pretty limited. His experience with any other kind of intimate act was non-existent (unless you counted jerking off, in which case he was probably an expert by now). There wasn’t much chance to think about any of that in the moment. Dean just kissed back with the unleashed force of finally touching Sam the way he’d wanted to for...well, for a while. A long while.

Reaching around to grab a handful of Sam’s hair, Dean broke the kiss and started licking and sucking and biting at Sam’s unwashed and sweat-covered neck. It was disgusting, and it was perfect. Their dicks were both hard immediately, and neither of them had a reason to hold back so they were grinding against each other, trying to get friction any way they could. 

Sam’s suddenly pulling away was unexpected, but not anywhere near the immediate drop to his knees on the sickly green peeling linoleum floor and quick as lightning pull of Dean’s shorts that freed his aching cock. Dean’s ability to be surprised had returned immediately when Sam grabbed him at the base and took the head into his mouth greedily. 

Of all the (many, many) times Dean had imagined something physical starting between them, this was never a consideration. He would _never_ have let a girl get her mouth on his dick in a filthy kitchen, his unshowered and ball-sweating stench right in her face. But Sam sure didn’t mind. 

That’s not the way this was supposed to go, Dean was fairly certain. Gotta crawl before you walk and all that; if Sammy had lost his virginity there was no way he could have kept that intel from his older brother. Even then, Dean would have bet his...okay, so he didn’t have anything to bet except the car and he’d never do that...but he was one hundred percent certain Sam had never had a dick in his mouth before. Dean was eighteen and hadn’t ever had a dick in _his_ mouth but here was Sammy, fresh out of junior high, hollowing his cheeks and drooling like there was no learning curve involved in figuring out how to suck cock. 

Dean didn’t even try to stop him, just kept his fingers tangled in Sam’s hair while Sam made these desperate sounds straight out of a porno, one hand tight against Dean’s thigh and spit dripping wet and messy down onto Dean’s balls. The kid couldn’t get Dean’s entire dick into his mouth but goddamn if it didn’t seem like he was trying. Sam kept his other hand wrapped securely around what he couldn’t fit into his mouth. 

Out of nowhere, Dean was hit with what felt like vertigo or the way a room would turn on its side after 4 or 5 shots of Jack. He tried to pull back, got out a garbled-sounding warning in case Sammy didn’t want to end up with a mouth full of jizz. Sam held on another few seconds, then looked up at Dean, stroked his cock twice, and held himself still while Dean came all over his flushed face. 

Still feeling a little shocked, Dean slid down onto the floor instead of trying to pull Sam (who’d quite obviously already come in his pants) up. He stared, slack-jawed and shaking, as Sam started wiping cum from his face and licking his fingers clean, never breaking eye contact with Dean. 

Much as Dean could recall, they’d both taken showers after that without exchanging more than a few words between them. 

Things took off from there; by the end of the summer they were fucking every chance they got. Somehow they’d managed to keep it up undetected throughout the next few years, and they’d talked about sex, talked about what they liked and didn’t like, talked about how terrifying and perfect it was, talked about sex they had with girls. But they never did talk about that first time; no discussion of _how long_ or _is it okay_ or _what if_. 

There hadn’t been time to talk about anything in the brief and harrowing night when Sam and John had squared off for seemingly the last time before Sam packed his bag and walked out the door, pausing only to look back at Dean with heartbreaking sorrow and regret. 

Putting his lug wrench back into the trunk, wiping his hands and face on a dirty towel and wishing he knew how long it was going to be before he hit the next place where he could shower, he tried to shake off the vivid memories as he got back into the Impala.

It was almost September. Dean wondered what the weather was like in Palo Alto.


End file.
